No matter the era, a veteran hero is a veteran hero. I got the idea for my wounded warrior hero, Frederick, when I was at a theme park and saw a legless soldier in a wheelchair surrounded by his loving family and I suppose his girlfriend or wife. He was strong and handsome and had a smile that went on forever. I realized there was an untapped market for heroes like him. Thus, my hand amputee, Colonel Frederick Blakeney, came to life!

Please enjoy this excerpt from IN THE ARMS OF AN EARL, my new release from The Wild Rose Press:

BLURB

Music brings insecure spinster Jane and wounded veteran Frederick together, but the intrigues of the ton threaten to tear them apart. Can they confront their doubts and reclaim their love?

EXCERPT

Her energetic playing was not enough to soothe her yearning spirit. The haunting melody of the symphony””F.B.’s symphony””had never left the empty spaces within her heart. She took a deep breath before she plunged joyously into the depths of the music, the notes spiraling around her as she played it all from memory. When she reached the end, she retained her final posture, as if the movement of a single hair would cause the moment to vanish.

“Bravo.” An oddly familiar, deep voice murmured from the corner.

Jane rose with a startled cry, slamming her hands down on the keys. The unmistakable form of the composer she had so admired stepped out of the shadows.

There was only one reason why he could be at Everhill. F.B. was Lucinda’s Colonel B. She wondered why she should be surprised.

Colonel Blakeney bowed, and when he straightened, the composer’s dark eyes regarded her with wary goodwill.

She snatched her shawl from the floor, her fingers tangling in the fringe in her haste to swirl it over her shoulders.

“I didn’t know anyone was here. I’m very sorry to disturb you, sir.”

The backs of her knees banged the bench, and it wobbled. She stumbled around it, her heart pounding an erratic tattoo. Should she pretend not to recognize him? What must he think of her, playing in the middle of the night with wild abandon, clad only in her night rail?

His facial features appeared distorted in the flickering firelight. “It is I who must apologize. I’m afraid I have disturbed you. Miss Brooke, is it?”

“Yes,” she murmured. She licked her dry lips, half-fearing what he might say about her poor attempt at duplicating his music. She’d been off by two counts on the last few measures and had covered up badly. Worse than his criticism would be a censure of her unintended insult at the musicale.

Though she feared being forward, her gaze was drawn to him. He’d discarded his coat and wore a brocade waistcoat over his white shirt. His left sleeve was sewn closed at the wrist. She recalled what Lucinda had said about his losing the woman he loved because of his injury. If only she could apologize for the earlier incident when he’d thought she pulled away in disgust.

Her gaze flicked back to his face, and his cool stare acknowledged she’d looked at his empty cuff. To ease the growing tension in the silence around them, she hastily said, “My father and Colonel Parker are old friends. I have been a guest here a month.”

Why should she explain her presence in the house? She should have foregone conversation and hurried out of the room as any proper young lady would.

Before she decided, he smiled. It was just the barest hint of a smile but reassured her somehow, and she remained where she was.

“Our host mentioned you when I arrived earlier. Tell me, do you often play at night, when the house is asleep?”

“Most of the house is asleep.” She bit her lip at her impertinence. He had obviously made a joke to settle her nerves.

“Quite right.” He held out his hand. “Forgive my lack of manners. Colonel Frederick Blakeney, at your service. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Brooke. Again.”

She hesitated, wondering if she should shake a gentleman’s hand while dressed in her nightclothes. Summoning all the dignity she could, she placed her hand in his, surprised when he squeezed her fingers. His hand was warmer than she expected, and she almost forgot to pull away. When she did, she looked up at him. His interested gaze had never left her face. Heat rose through her, reaching her cheeks and flooding the rest of her the way it had when she’d first met him. She didn’t know how she’d ever thought Jeremy Parker the handsomest man she’d ever met. She swallowed, but her throat remained dry.

“I should go.” She would have to walk around him if he didn’t move first.

He didn’t.

“Why not play some more? I enjoyed listening to you. Unless you’re tired, of course.”

Lucinda’s words about his musical aptitude flooded her thoughts. “I could play all night, Colonel Blakeney. But I’m not fond of playing before an audience. I’m afraid my talent is not quite up to performance level.”

“I beg to disagree. Please, indulge yourself. I shall disappear into the corner again. Just pretend I do not exist.” With an elegant bow, he took his former position on the divan near the back of the room.

Jane stood by the fire, her fingers tingling. Her mother would have an attack of nerves were she ever to learn her daughter had played the pianoforte at midnight for a handsome stranger.

But Mamma was not there.

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